Disney After Dark

Kingdom Keepers II
—
Disney at Dawn

Steel Trapp
—
The Challenge

Blood Tide

Cave of the Dark Wind

Escape from the Carnivale

Peter and the Secret of Rundoon

Peter and the Shadow Thieves

Peter and the Starcatchers

Science Fair

The following are some of the trademarks, registered marks, and service marks owned by Disney Enterprises, Inc.: Adventureland® Area, Audio-Animatronics® Figure, Big Thunder Mountain®

Railroad Disneyland®, Disney’s Hol ywood Studios, Disney’s Animal Kingdom® Theme Park, Epcot®, Fantasyland® Area, FASTPASS® Service, Fort Wilderness, Frontierland® Area, Imagineering, Imagineers, “it’s a smal world,” Magic Kingdom® Park, Main Street, U.S.A. Area, Mickey’s Toontown®, monorail, New Orleans Square, Space Mountain® Attraction, Splash Mountain® Attraction, Tomorrowland® Area, Walt Disney World® Resort

“It’s A Smal World” Words and Music by Richard M. Sherman and Robert B. Sherman © 1963

Wonderland Music Company, Inc.

Buzz Lightyear Astro Blasters © Disney Enterprises, Inc./Pixar Animation Studios
Toy Story
characters © Disney Enterprises, Inc./Pixar Animation Studios Winnie the Pooh characters based on the “Winnie the Pooh” works by A. A. Milne and E. H.

Shepard

Copyright © 2005 Page One, Inc.

Il ustration © 2005 by David Frankland

Al rights reserved. Published by Disney•Hyperion Books, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.

For information address Disney•Hyperion Books, 114 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10011-5690.

Printed in the United States of America

New Disney•Hyperion paperback edition, 2009

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data on file.

ISBN 978-1-4231-4112-9

This book is dedicated to 

anyone and everyone 

who ever wondered what happens when the
gates are closed 

and the
lights go out.

To whoever invented holograms, thanks for the ride.

Without people who make books come true, like Al Zuckerman and Amy Berkower at Writers House, and Wendy Lefkon, my editor at Disney • Hyperion, projects like this would never happen.

Thanks to you all.

Thanks also to Laurel and David, who read this far too many times, red pens in hand. And to Christopher Caines for his keen eye and great suggestions.

And thanks to Jason Surrell, a Disney Imagineer who has the “keys to the kingdom.” He toured me through an empty Magic Kingdom on more than one occasion, and helped to make magic out of reality. Jason repeatedly served up the history of and little-known facts about the park, though he’ll probably deny it in order to keep his job.

Thanks, too, to Wayne and Christina—and a dozen more who shall remain nameless—who live this fiction. Wayne works behind the scenes at Splash Mountain, and the lovely Christina at Space Mountain. They provided mountains of help.

Special thanks to Paige, Storey, and Sophie, through whose eyes I’ve seen the Magic Kingdom so many times now, and who got me wondering what it must be like at night after everyone’s departed…or
almost
everyone.

And thanks to Dave, who teased me relentlessly for my study of the trash evacuation system during one of our secret tours of the tunnels. This is for you. There really
is
method to this madness. Or sort of.

—R.P.

February 28
, 2005

St. Louis, Missouri

1

H
e found himself standing next to the flagpole in Town Square, in the heart of the Magic Kingdom. In his pajamas. How he’d gotten here, he had no idea. His last memory was climbing into bed—it felt like only minutes earlier.

Gripped by a sense of panic, awed by the sight of the Cinderella Castle at night, Finn Whitman briefly recalled that he’d had other, similar dreams recendy—always in the Magic Kingdom, always at night. But in his thirteen years, none so real, so vivid as this: he felt a breeze on his face; he smelled the wet earth of a flower bed not far away; he heard the distant whine of traffic and the buzz of a motorboat on the lake behind him.

“It looks so different,” he thought, only to realize he’d spoken out loud. Main Street stood empty, not a person in sight. He glanced around and quickly saw that he was all alone.

“Not so different as all that,” came a man’s voice. Though faint, it startled Finn. He looked around again, this time trying to find the source of that voice.

There! An old guy with white hair, on a bench in front of the Exhibition Hall. He sat so close to a seated sculpture of Goofy that Finn hadn’t noticed him.

Finn moved toward the man, crossing the empty street. He felt unusually light, almost buoyant.

The old man wore khakis, a collared shirt, and a name tag: WAYNE.

“Where is everybody?” Finn asked, struck by the electronic sound of his own voice.

“Is it empty?” the man asked, looking up anxiously. “Tell me what you see.”

Finn wondered if the old guy was blind. He seemed to be looking right at Finn; his blue eyes looked perfectly normal. Still, maybe he couldn’t see.

“Well,” Finn said politely, “it’s like…empty. And it’s dark out. And it’s just the two of us.”

Wayne’s expression changed to disappointment.

“What am I supposed to see, exactly?” Finn asked.

“You’re only supposed to see what you can see.”

“Whatever that means,” Finn said.

“It means exactly what it says.”

“If you say so.”

“Listen, young man, I’ve been around here since long before any of them were even created. I live in the apartment above the fire station.” He pointed right at the firehouse and then looked back at Finn. “That takes some seniority, believe me.”

Seniority or senility? Finn wondered. Living above the firehouse? Finn doubted it.

“Nice pajamas,” the old guy said.

Finn looked at himself. His pajamas seemed to be…glowing. What was with that? He said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but if you can see, if you’re not blind, then why’d you ask me about the park being empty?”

Wayne’s ice-blue eyes drilled into him. “How do you think you got here, young man?”

“That depends on where I am,” Finn answered honestly. This felt like no dream he’d ever experienced.

“Very good answer. I expected no less of you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I assumed that you’d question this—that’s only natural—but ultimately there’s only one explanation, isn’t there?”

“Is there?” Finn asked, confused.

“The other ones I wasn’t so sure about. But you, Finn Whitman. By the way, that’s a fine name you have. A name with real potential.”

Finn took a step back. How did this old guy know his name?

“What other ones?” Finn asked. He studied Town Square and Main Street. The street lamps shone yellow. The Cinderella Castle glowed in the distance. All the familiar streets and paths and attractions, but empty. “I told you, there’s no one here. No one but us. It’s empty.”

Wayne said nothing as he stood and walked up Main Street, past the shops and toward the castle. Finn found himself following right along. They reached Central Plaza, an island in the center of a traffic circle, the spokes of which led to the Magic Kingdom’s various lands—Tomorrowland, Frontierland, Liberty Square. They stopped in front of a statue of Walt Disney with Mickey Mouse.

The castle rose majestically into the night sky.

“What time is it?” Wayne asked.

As Finn brought his arm up to look at his watch, he saw that his arm wasn’t exactly his arm. It was…glowing. Not only glowing, but he could almost see through it. As if—

“What’s going on?” Finn asked. “What’s with my arm?”

Wayne sounded critical as he said, “Figure it out.” He then reached into his pocket and removed what looked like a remote control for a car: a small black plastic fob with a single red button. It looked like a garage-door opener.

“What’s with that thing?” Finn asked.

“This button will send you back.”

“Back where?” Finn felt a jolt of fear. What if this wasn’t a dream? He studied his arm again.

Then his other arm. He looked down at his legs. His whole body was glowing and vaguely translucent.

“Back to bed,” Wayne answered.

“So it is a dream? I thought so.”

“It’s not a dream.”

Finn saw a pair of four-foot-tall chipmunks come out of the castle. They walked down a path and turned left, toward Toontown. He felt himself staring. He recognized them.

“What?” Wayne asked excitedly.

“Nothing,” Finn answered.

“You saw something!” he practically shouted into Finn’s ear, causing Finn to jump back, startled.

Wayne leaped up, suddenly years younger. He pulled Finn to his feet.

“You saw something!” he thundered.

“Hey! What’s the big deal?”

“Tell me what you saw.”

“You saw it too!” Finn told him.

“Which character?”

Finn felt relief. Wayne knew Finn had seen a character, which had to mean he’d seen it too.

He was clearly playing some kind of game, making Finn actually name the character, but Finn was good at games.

“Which character did you see?” Finn asked.

“You want me to push this button?” Wayne threatened.

Did he? Finn wasn’t sure. If it was a dream, the black remote-control fob represented a way out. When was the right time to use it? He hoped to stretch this out a minute longer. It was fun here.

He glanced around at the sound of footsteps. Goofy went tearing past them, not thirty feet away, and headed into Frontierland.

Wayne never moved. Never looked in Goofy’s direction.

“You’re playing head games with me,” Finn said.

“Am I?”

“Goofy,” Finn said.

“Are you asking me if I’m goofy? I’ve been called worse.” Wayne studied Finn. His old leathery face brightened as he said, “You saw Goofy!”

Maybe Wayne needed a hearing aid—he seemed prone to fits of shouting.

Finn backed off. “Yeah. So what? You would have too, if you’d bothered to look.”

Wayne probably couldn’t hear all that well. He obviously hadn’t heard Goofy’s footsteps, because he hadn’t turned toward the sound.

Finn decided to test Wayne. “Chip and Dale,” he said. “You saw them, right?”

“You saw Chip and Dale?” He made it sound like Finn had won the lottery. What was with that?

“I, ah…This is getting a little weird. I think I want to go back now.” Finn heard himself repeat some of what Wayne had told him, though the words didn’t fit in his mouth all that well. It sounded to him like someone else doing the talking.

“I’ll push the button, if you like. But I have to warn you….” Wayne fiddled with the nametag pinned to his uniform.

“Warn me about what?”